


Picture of Us

by Grinner_H



Series: 15 a Piece Prompt Challenge [18]
Category: Finder no Hyouteki | Finder Series
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-31
Updated: 2016-07-31
Packaged: 2018-07-28 09:59:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7635892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grinner_H/pseuds/Grinner_H
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>For her prompt : <i>Happily ever after.</i></p><p>For Prompt #115 - <i>Under the Rain</i> (selected by <b><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ashida">Ash</a></b> from <b><a href="http://insane-1.deviantart.com/art/200-Writing-Challenge-68163506">200 Writing Challenge</a></b>).</p>
    </blockquote>





	Picture of Us

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ashida](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ashida/gifts).



> For her prompt : _Happily ever after._
> 
> For Prompt #115 - _Under the Rain_ (selected by **[Ash](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ashida)** from **[200 Writing Challenge](http://insane-1.deviantart.com/art/200-Writing-Challenge-68163506)** ).

I remember watching you leave.

I remember, for the most part, simply _watching_ you; keeping you - as much as I could - out of trouble, keeping you _safe._

It's cruel and wrong, but sometimes, dark times like these, I wish for those days again. Wish us back to when I was just a man who lived somewhere in the space between loyalty and love, and you were just the world.

And this is the last memory I have of you. 

Watching you leave the casino ship, one step away from captivity, one step closer to freedom.

I know you were wounded then - the gentle way with which Asami tried to shield you said as much - but you didn't look it, not even a little bit. Straight-backed and resolute no matter how much they took from you. 

And I _know_ how much they took. I was there when you were running for your life from Arbatov's man. I was there when you spent night after night in Fei Long's chambers, bearing the brunt of his misguided wrath. 

You should've been scared. You should've been in pain. You should've broken. But no matter how hard they tried to strip it from you, you never lost your pride.

I remember the protective way Asami guided you to safety, the way he touched you as if you needed him to keep you from falling apart. I wonder if you drew your strength from him. I know that he drew his strength from _you._

I remember wishing that it was _me_ by your side. 

And I remember the moment you turned around, looking up at where Fei Long was watching you go, pretending like he didn't give a damn. 

I would like to say that that was the last time we saw each other. 

But the truth is, you didn't see me at all. 

I remember standing in the shadows, watching you leave, watching you walk _away, away, away._

—

The thing is, remembering _hurts._

And I don't know why I'm remembering you _now,_ standing in the middle of this bustling Taiwan airport, listening to poorly-timed boarding calls, watching Fei Long walk away from me.

I was never the kind of guy who believed in silly little dreams of _happily ever after._ But I guess I chased _something,_ searched for it in all the wrong corners of the world, sought it in someone I thought I could fix. 

And in my generous moments, more than I could admit to, less than I should have had, I've always prayed that you would find your own brand of _happy endings,_ even if they weren't with _me._

It's strange - standing here, watching him leave with this growing ache in my chest, knowing it hurts 'cause it's _you_ I'm thinking about.

I would like to say that I can't remember the moment you replaced his image in my head, in my heart. 

But I remember it with astounding clarity. 

It was the moment when I first saw your eyes.

—

These days, I find myself thinking about stuff I never used to think about. 

Things like time. Like how long it's been since I last laid eyes on you. Like how many years have passed since you walked out of my life, even if you were never really _in_ it to begin with. 

_Four years._

It's been four years, six months, and twenty-six days. I don't count the hours and minutes and seconds, but it's your fault that I even remember this much. 

It's a lonely Tuesday on a busy city street. I stop by a newsstand to get a pack of cigarettes. There's a grayscale photograph of a lion on the cover of a magazine that catches my eye. It sounds absurd, but its eyes remind me of Asami's.

I wonder if you took that photograph. 

I wonder what you're doing in this very moment.

I wonder what you look like right now.

—

It's funny, thinking about the passing of time, counting years and months and moments of you. 

It's funny 'cause I feel that, in a lot of ways, time has stopped moving for me. 

It's almost as if the whole world is moving on and here I am, a free man whose heart remains shackled to this handful of memories on repeat. 

I do not know how to forget you. 

I know that - no matter how much it hurts - I do not _want_ to.

—

Last night I dreamed. 

I dreamed that I was drowning in shadow and dark water. 

That it was covering my skin, filling my eyes, my mouth, my lungs, till all I breathed was black, black, black.

I dreamed of your hand tugging on mine. I dreamed of your lips calling my name. I dreamed of your eyes. 

But I kept on drowning.

—

It's been nine years, two months, and thirteen days since I last saw you, since you didn't see _me._

I don't know why I'm still counting.

—

These walls are cold. 

It's strange that - after over twelve years of living in this minuscule apartment - I'm only noticing this now.

And here's another thing that's strange. 

That I can fit my life into just a duffel bag and a briefcase. 

I wonder how many backpacks and cardboard boxes you'd need to fit _yours._ I wonder how many you'd need before it'd be _enough._

I wonder if you'd look at me now with your spirited eyes and quick-witted mouth and think me sad.

Or would you be proud that this is my first step. 

My first step to leaving this life behind, to starting over, in places we'd probably never find each other no matter how hard we looked.

For the first time in what feels like an age, there is this crazy thrill skittering through my bones. 

I step through the cold, cold door and shut it behind me. 

I tell myself, _Don't look back._

—

We meet in one of the many places I never expected to see you.

We meet on the corner of Bleecker and Sixth, somewhere in the space between a drizzle and a downpour.

I know that I should probably say something like, _Hello._ Maybe, _It's been a while_ or, _You look good_ or, _Where's Asami?_

What I _really_ want to say is, _I think I could love you._

But all I can manage is your name. "Takaba," I say, and I wonder why it feels so heavy and so good on my tongue.

And your hand, it's wrapping itself around the dogtagged chain 'round my neck. You're tugging me forward - _toward_ you - with surprising force and unsurprising strength. "Think fast," you say, around a grin that's manic and cheeky and endearing all at once.

Then, there is the brilliant flash of your camera and the brilliant spark of your eyes.

—

This is the first picture we have of us. 

Me watching you, barely a breath between our faces. 

Your eyes - warm hazel that burns almost gold with your spirit that doesn't understand how to die - meeting mine like a challenge, like, _I dare you to fucking blink first._

I look at this picture and think about how we began.

I look at this picture and think about all the ways we could never end.


End file.
